


Go West, Young Man (But Then Come Home To Me)

by byrd_the_amazin



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: "I Ran To The Airport And I Was Too Late", F/F, Getting Back Together, M/M, Multi, Parties and Copious Amounts of Alcohol, Pining, i was just real proud of it so here it is again, so much pining, the whole shebang, this is also posted to Idiots In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 09:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byrd_the_amazin/pseuds/byrd_the_amazin
Summary: "we broke up after i left and moved away and months later i find out you rushed to the airport to stop me but you were too late-jackcrutchie"





	Go West, Young Man (But Then Come Home To Me)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I KNOW THIS IS ALREADY POSTED TO IDIOTS IN LOVE BUT I'M SUPER PROUD OF THIS ALRIGHT 
> 
> so it's going here too
> 
> *whispers* validate me here, too
> 
> anyways, if you're new to this fic, have some good ol' fashioned pining with So Many Background Ships, my Got
> 
> seriously we've got the motherload here
> 
> smalls/sniper, sprace, newsbians, blush, specs/romeo, even a hint of past ralbert if you squint and tilt your head ninety degrees to the left
> 
> anyways enjoy
> 
> while i go listen to my christmas playlist on spotify and work on that christmas fic i've been meaning to write ever since i joined this gotdamn fandom
> 
> ily all 
> 
> here goes nothing 
> 
> -byrd

Realistically, Jack knew that eventually he would be coming back to New York. 

It was the city he’d been born in, the streets he’d grown up on, the only thing he’d known up until his last year of college, when he’d kissed it all goodbye and left for New Mexico. 

And New Mexico was amazing. Truly. It wasn’t as loud and hectic all the time, and when he went out into the desert, away from the larger cities, the sunsets and sunrises were to  _die_ for. 

Still, Jack knew eventually he would come back to Manhattan. All his friends were still here. Medda was still here, and his foster siblings were still here. 

 _Someone else is still in Manhattan, too,_ a little gremlin somewhere deep inside his brain whispered, but he ignored it. He’d broken up with Crutchie months ago, right before he’d moved to Santa Fe. He had explained where he was going, why he was leaving, and asking if maybe they needed a break, and Crutchie had responded by completely shutting him out. 

He hadn’t even come to the airport to see Jack off. 

But Jack had since gotten over it. He’d gone out with a few people since he’d moved out west, and while none of them had been particularly life-altering in a soulmate-type way, he was perfectly happy. He liked his new life. 

Even so, when Spot called him early one morning with a demand posed as a friendly invitation, Jack knew he didn’t  _really_ have a choice. 

“Kelly,” Spot said when Jack fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and answered it. That was it. No preamble, no greeting. Just  _Kelly._ This, at least, hadn’t changed since Jack had left. 

 

“Do you have  _any idea_ what time it is here?” Jack snapped, exhausted. 

“Shut up, you baby,” Spot said. “There’s only a two hour time difference. You’ll live.”

Jack groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “Did you call me to yell at me about time zones?” he asked, knowing Spot wouldn’t waste a phone call on that. 

“No, ass. I have a reason. It’s Race’s twenty-second birthday on Friday, and we’re making it a huge deal since he missed out on a bunch of birthdays growing up.”

“Spot, I don’t-”

“Medda’s already arranged your travel tickets, so you don’t have to worry about your broke artist’s ass going even more broke, so that’s not a fucking excuse.”

“ _Spot_ -”

 

“And it would mean a lot to Race, dude. And our sister. Smalls hasn’t seen or talked to you in  _forever._ It’d mean a lot to her. _”_

 _It would mean a lot to me_ went unsaid, but it was still there. Jack sighed, knowing he’d been shot down. Besides, it would be nice to go see all his friends again- Skype and FaceTime only went so far when you were missing not only your friends’ faces but their voices and habits and  _lives,_ too.

“I’m coming,” he said, before Spot could argue any more points. 

“I know you are,” Spot agreed. “But just in case you tried to worm your way out of it, I  _also_ already told Les that you were coming.”

 

“You sick son of a bitch.” Les would be absolutely  _thrilled_ that Jack was visiting, and they both knew it. Disappointing Les meant causing the greatest kid in the world absolute  _heartbreak._ Jack would be an ass if he dropped out now. 

“Uh-huh.” Spot didn’t sound all that concerned. “So I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Wednesday? His party isn’t until Friday, Spot.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Call it party planning. Call it catching up with people, I don’t give a shit. Take off work and haul ass up here, because I know there are some people who you need to do some  _serious_ catching up with.”

Jack knew exactly what Spot was talking about, and his face burned. He could feel his tone getting more defensive as he spoke, but he didn’t care. “Crutchie and I broke up, Spot.”

“Yeah, and it made you both miserable as  _shit,_ so maybe some of that can get resolved when you come up, too. Anyways! See you in a few days. Don’t get yourself murdered between now and then.”

 

Jack opened his mouth to speak, to argue, to defend his honor, to say that he was  _over_ Crutchie, that he wasn’t  _miserable,_ but before he could say anything, Spot hung up on him. 

 

Jack dropped his phone onto his chest and ran a hand through his hair. Today was Monday. That meant he had two days to pack and prepare to leave. Prepare to see some people he hadn’t seen in months. Prepare to sleep on someone’s couch for however long Spot was planning on holding him hostage in New York. Prepare to have some conversations he…  _really_ did not want to have.

His phone dinged with a new text, and Jack lifted it off his chest to find Spot’s name blinking on his screen.

**[spit pot man] hey ass i made a mistake**

**[spit pot man] ur tickts are scheduled for tues not wed**

**[spit pot man] idk if that changes anything but**

**[me] spot i cant take off work with only a days notice**

**[spit pot man] yes u can**

**[me] no i really cant theyre going to fire me**

**[spit pot man] so i shld tell les its a no go then**

**[me] i hate u**

**[spit pot man] get in line buddy**

Jack dropped his phone onto the bed beside him and sighed. 

“Shit.” There was  _no way_ his boss was going to let him off work with such short notice. 

 _Time to find a new job,_  he thought dismally, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, stretching, and surveyed his disaster of an apartment, with clothes strewn here and there and paint on every conceivable surface where there could be paint. Unfinished art pieces stood propped against the wall, and finished ones sat in much the same position. His little kitchenette was a warzone of dirty dishes and coffee mugs sitting in precarious places, the victims of too many “I’ll wash those later”s. 

Somehow, he was supposed to find enough clothes in this mess to pack a bag to hold him over for several says. Somehow, he was supposed to call his boss and ask for time off work when he knew as well as anyone who had ever worked for Snyder that the man didn’t just  _let people off._ Somehow, he was supposed to find the courage to face Crutchie in two days.  _Crutchie,_ who he hadn’t spoken to since they had broken up. 

Then he really thought about Crutchie, thought about how the time spent dating him had been some of the best of his life. He thought about Crutchie’s smile, his pout when he wanted something and Jack refused him, his fiery expression when he was about to tell off an asshole. 

He thought about the way Crutchie gripped the handles of his forearm crutches when he got mad. He thought about the way Crutchie’s eyes twinkled just a  _bit_ more than usual when he got an idea. He thought about the way Crutchie always let go of at least one of his crutches to grab Jack’s arm when they kissed-

And this thinking was straying into  _very dangerous territory, very quickly._

He needed to  _not be thinking about Crutchie._ He needed to be  _over_ Crutchie. 

 _You’re not over him,_ a tiny voice inside his head whispered.  _You never were._

He thought about the people he’d dated since moving out west. There had been Gabby, who he worked with. Jon, the guy from the dating app. Marisa, who he’d quite literally bumped into on the street, thought he was funny, and struck up a conversation and eventually a relationship. A guy named Charlie who bore a striking resemblance to the Charlie back home in New York (but he didn’t think about that). Luke. One other guy, whose name Jack couldn’t remember because he literally hadn’t been able to make it through one date with him. 

He’d been happy with those people (except for the last guy, of course). He’d even loved some of them. But they just hadn’t been  _right._

 _They weren’t Charlie,_ the little voice whispered.  _They weren’t your Charlie. They weren’t Crutchie._

 _Shut up,_ he told the little voice. 

He was  _over_ Crutchie. 

Which meant that he could surely,  _surely_ go back to New York and have civil conversation with people without making a fuss. 

_Surely._

This would be fine, he told himself. This was going to be absolutely fine. 

~

This was  _not_ going to be absolutely fine. 

Jack figured out this helpful tidbit of information as soon as he got back into Manhattan. Medda had called him while he was still on the train to tell him that her apartment had flooded and she was staying with friends while the landlord sorted it all out, which was fine and dandy, but now he couldn’t crash on her couch. 

“It’s fine,” he had assured her. “Someone’ll have room for me. I’ll crash with one of the guys.”

Which was a grand plan except for one minor detail: while Jack had been away, the housing arrangements had changed somewhat. 

As couples got more serious about their relationship statuses, they had started moving in together, and now there was little to no space anywhere. Mush was living with Blink, Kath and Sarah shared an apartment, even his little sister had snagged an apartment with Sniper. Spot and Race, however, did not live together, which Jack found hopeful. Race lived with Albert, and Spot offered up the couch in his own apartment, which Jack gladly accepted, not even thinking about who Spot’s roommate was. 

“Shit,” he muttered, when he remembered. He was in the subway tunnel, buying a metrocard like it was second nature, swiping it like he had every day of his life, when it suddenly hit him that sharing an apartment with his brother...

 _...Also_ meant sharing an apartment with his ex. 

“Shit,” he muttered again. “Shit  _damn.”_

The woman standing next to him on the subway platform gave him an odd look, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. There was no  _possible_ way he was sharing a living space with Crutchie for the next several days. 

He pulled open the text from  **[spit pot man]** that read  **weve got a couch u can crash on. no r-ships in this aptmt.**

**[me] shit, spot**

**[spit pot man] i was wondering how long it wld take u to figure it out**

**[me] i cant live w him spot**

**[me] i rly cant**

**[spit pot man] tough shit, kelly**

**[spit pot man] unless u want 2 try ur luck on the streets, i dont have an answer for you**

**[me] shit**

**[spit pot man] yeah, yeah**

**[spit pot man] cry me a river**

**[spit pot man] how soon are u getting here?**

**[me] getting on th subway now**

**[spit pot man] damn guess i’d better start cleaning**

**[spit pot man] ... that was a joke**

**[spit pot man] im not cleaning 4 your ungrateful ass**

**[me] im not ready to see him again, spot**

**[spit pot man] would it be better or worse if he was here when u arrived**

**[me] better**

**[me] worse**

**[me] shit i dont know**

**[spit pot man] buddy youve got like**

**[spit pot man] less than 20 min to figure it out**

**[me] can u get him to leave?**

**[me] i just dont know if i can do this rn**

**[spit pot man] ill see what i can do**

**[me] thank you, spot**

**[spit pot man] yeah, yeah**

Jack exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding in and pressed his phone against his chest. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed that Crutchie wouldn’t be in the apartment when he got there. 

It felt like a mixture of both, and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

~

Through a little bit of luck and a lot of bribing Spot to keep his roommate out of the apartment while Jack was there, Jack managed to avoid seeing Crutchie until Thursday, when the group all got together to formally say hello to Jack again after months of him being in Santa Fe. 

They all met at Jacobi’s, the tiny deli where they had grown up going every day after school, just for old time’s sake, and at the beginning of the meal, Spot called a toast “to Jack, the shithead who left us for the fucking  _desert,”_ and everyone cheered and toasted. 

As luck, or fate, or destiny (or Spot) would have it, Jack ended up being seated right across from Crutchie for the entirety of the meal, so he couldn’t even stare straight ahead without meeting Crutchie’s eyes. 

He’d forgotten how nice Crutchie’s eyes were. 

Which  _definitely_ wasn’t the point of tonight, he thought, tearing his gaze away for what felt like the eightieth time. He wasn’t here to stare at Crutchie. He was here to celebrate with friends, and have a good time. 

He and Spot and Crutchie ended up all going back to the apartment together, and since it was close enough to walk, they did. They were silent as they walked, the only sounds coming from Crutchie’s forearm crutches clicking quietly against the pavement or Spot’s slight wheeze, born from a childhood of asthma that he’d never quite kicked. 

When they got into the apartment, well past two in the morning, Spot went straight to his room to go to bed and Jack crashed onto the couch with a loud groan. 

Crutchie went to his room, but lingered in the doorway. “Hey, Jack?”

Jack made an unintelligible noise into the couch cushions. 

“Goodnight,” Crutchie said, so softly Jack almost thought he’d imagined it. “Sweet dreams.” 

And then Crutchie’s bedroom door closed with a quick  _click,_ leaving Jack lying facedown on the couch, wondering what the  _hell_ he was doing back here, in New York,  _in the same damn apartment as Crutchie Morris, who’d broken his heart._

 _I can’t deal with this right now,_  Jack thought, as he drifted off to sleep right where he was. 

~

Race’s party was big, and loud, and an absolute  _mess,_  which Jack figured was characteristically appropriate. 

They’d started the party at Race and Albert’s apartment, then moved to the restaurant for dinner, and then went club-hopping for the majority of the rest of the night, with the intention of eventually going back to Race and Albert’s to crash for the night. 

Jack was relieved to see that, in his time away, the group’s old habits hadn’t changed. Specs still preferred not to drink, so he named himself Designated Sober Person to corral everyone to the next bar and make sure no one was left behind. Davey was still  _terrible_ at holding his alcohol. Spot was still  _amazing_ at it. Romeo loved dancing, and Specs hated it but would do almost anything for their partner if Romeo batted their eyelashes. Smalls loudly proclaimed that every single song that came on was “MY  _JAM_ ,” which was a habit dating back to when she was in sixth grade, back when she was in sixth grade and joined Jack’s family as his newest foster sibling. Sniper thought she was adorable, and made sure to tell her so every few minutes. 

Race spent the night making his way around their friend group, accepting congratulations for surviving another year and turning down dance requests, claiming he “wasn’t drunk enough yet.” 

But at the third club, Romeo finally managed to convince him to dance, dragging him out onto the dance floor and holding his attention for a solid five minutes with Specs and Spot watching on from the table. Finally, Spot seemed to lose patience and downed the entire rest of his drink, slammed the glass on the table, and stood, making his way out to the dance floor. He shoved Romeo aside, taking their place to dance with Race.

Romeo pretended to pout as they came back to the table, where Specs, Jack, Crutchie, and Sarah were sitting, nursing their own drinks. 

“Come dance with me?” they asked Specs, who hesitated, even though everyone at that table and their mother knew it would be less than forty-five seconds before they got up to join Romeo on the dance floor. 

“True love,” sighed Sarah, as, sure enough, thirty seconds later, Specs left the table to go dance with their partner. She turned to Jack, and whether it was the alcohol or the Jacobs blood in her, she had a devious smirk on her face. “So, Jack. How’s your love life?”

Jack snorted into his glass. “Nonexistent. Why? You interested?”

Beside him, Crutchie made a choking noise into his drink, which Jack debated pointing out and then decided to leave alone. Crutchie was just drunk. That was all.

“Unfortunately for you, I have a girlfriend, who happens to be  _way_ prettier than you,” Sarah said. 

“Where is Katherine?” Crutchie asked. 

“Trying to flirt her way into another free drink,” Sarah laughed. “I don’t think this bartender is going for it, though.”

Jack scanned the bar located against the wall for Katherine’s long brown hair, but he couldn’t spot her. “Huh. Did it work at the other clubs?”

Sarah gave him a look. “What do you think?”

“It’s  _Kath,”_ Crutchie pointed out, and alright, that was fair. 

For some reason, Crutchie had been.... almost  _nice_ to Jack this entire party. Jack supposed it was just out of courtesy to Race, who probably didn’t want his party ruined by spiteful exes, but that didn’t mean he was complaining. He liked it when Crutchie wasn’t acting like he hated him. 

All of a sudden, Albert appeared out of the moving mass of bodies on the dance floor, supporting a slumped Race with an arm slung around his back. 

“Time to go,” Albert ordered, and the three people sitting at the table leapt to their feet. 

“Fuck,” Crutchie said weakly, taking in Race’s bleeding face.

“What happened?” Sarah asked. 

“Homophobes happened,” Albert grumbled. He deposited Race into one of the chairs. “He’s fine. Bloody nose, probably has the wind knocked out of him. The guy hit him pretty hard.”

“Where’s Spot?” Crutchie and Jack demanded at the same time.

“Where the hell do you  _think_ Spot is?” Albert demanded. “He’s beating the shit out of the guy who called Race that slur. So now I’m going to get him so that he doesn’t have to face criminal charges for murder, and  _you_ three are going to round everyone else up so that we can get the hell out of here before things  _really_ start going south.”

And with that, he vanished into the crowd of drunk, dancing partygoers. 

They managed to round everyone up within ten minutes, which was partially due to Katherine Plumber and her commanding, ear-splitting yelling, and found themselves out on the streets of Manhattan, a stumbling group of (some  _very drunk_ ) people. 

Crutchie and Specs took the lead, and since cramming twenty-something people into an Uber wasn’t sounding like an ideal plan, they just decided to walk. Albert had managed to pry Spot off the homophobe, and now Jack was walking beside him, listening to him spit curses under his breath as he walked hand-in-hand with Race, whose nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. 

Sarah and Katherine’s arms were linked, and while both of them had had a significant amount of alcohol, their steps were steady (Jack suspected that they were supporting each other, but then again, both girls had always been good at handling their alcohol intake). Specs was giving Romeo a piggyback, and beside them, Smalls was trying to convince her girlfriend to give  _her_ one, too (Sniper wasn’t going for it). Davey had an arm slung around JoJo’s shoulders, although whether it was for Davey’s sake or JoJo’s was anyone’s guess. 

Somehow, they made it back to Race and Albert’s apartment without any more major incidents, and several people immediately crashed on the ground or in a chair or on a sofa somewhere. Albert offered up his bed to Smalls and Sniper, but Race threatened death upon anyone who invaded his room, so everyone else found a spot in the living room to settle in.

It was cramped and crowded and everyone was touching everyone else somehow, but Jack realized, with a jolt, that this was exactly what he had missed so much in New Mexico. He’d missed the closeness of their friend group. He’d missed loving each of them like they were family. He’d missed  _this,_ sitting on the couch with Katherine on one side of him and Crutchie on the other. Mush and Blink were somewhere at his feet, and Spot and Race were sharing the armchair directly to his right. 

He’d missed this more than anything, he realized. He didn’t  _want_ to go back out west. 

A sudden weight on his chest made him jump, and he looked down to see that Crutchie was fast asleep and had tipped sideways  so that his head was resting on Jack. 

 _Oh...._  he would miss this too. 

Without a doubt. 

Later, he would blame it on the alcohol, or the late hour of the night (or rather, the early hour of the morning, technically, as it was well past four am), or simply his lack of self control, but Jack’s hand slowly came up to card itself through Crutchie’s hair. 

Crutchie made a soft sound in his sleep, and Jack froze, because Crutchie might as well have smacked him in the face.  _What the hell was he doing?_  He and Crutchie were  _done._ Crutchie  _hated_ him, or at the very least, certainly didn’t like him very much anymore. 

He needed to get off the damn couch. Away from Crutchie, his ex who he just couldn’t seem to get over. Away from his soft hair and little noises in his sleep and the gentle weight of his head on Jack’s chest. 

Jack stood abruptly from the couch, disturbing both Crutchie and Kath, whose head had been resting on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered distractedly. “I need to... I have to go.”

Dodging sleeping people on the ground left and right, he made his way out of the living room and quickly debated shutting himself in the bathroom. He changed his mind when he pulled the shower curtain back to find Davey, fast asleep in the bathtub, fully clothed and snoring quietly. 

So instead, he found himself on the fire escape, leaning on the railing and looking out into the alley below. There was still a rope tied to the railing where Albert and Henry had tried rappelling down the building into the alley below, which had resulted in both of them needing hospital visits for a combined four broken bones between the two of them. One Fourth of July, Race and Spot had set off (definitely illegal) fireworks in the alley- the scorch marks were still prominent on the brick wall. 

Jack smiled despite himself. There were so many memories here, in this building, in the city. He was definitely going to miss it. 

He thought about the day he had figured out he was moving away, to Santa Fe. He remembered the look on Crutchie’s face when Jack told him he was leaving, the betrayal that crossed his features when Jack sheepishly admitted that he’d been planning this trip for weeks.

 _When were you going to tell me?_ he had demanded. _The day you left New York for good? What the hell, Jack?_

Jack had made excuses, argued, and begged, but in the end, Crutchie had looked up with hardened eyes and said, _If you can’t be honest with me, maybe taking a break is best for both of us._

 _I never said anything about taking a break,_ Jack pleaded, but Crutchie shook his head.

 _Long-distance relationships are harder anyways, Jack,_ he said softly, getting up, positioning his crutches, and making his way to the door. _I’m gonna go stay with Spot for a while, okay?_

They hadn’t spoken again, and Jack had left New York. There had been a goodbye get-together among a small group of friends, only Katherine, Sarah, Davey, Spot, and Smalls, and Crutchie hadn’t attended.

Jack hadn’t expected him to, but it still stung.

And then, to add insult to injury, Crutchie hadn’t gone to see him off at the airport.

 _He hadn’t even said goodbye._ The greatest relationship of Jack’s life, his best friend in the world, his wonderful boyfriend, hadn’t come to the airport to see him off.

Jack hadn’t even realized he was crying until a teardrop hit the metal railing, and he wiped his eyes in case someone came out here and caught him get all weepy over old hurts.

Sure enough, the door opened behind him, and Jack hurriedly finished wiping his eyes. He didn’t trust himself to turn around, so he waited for whoever it was to either start speaking or realize he was out here and leave.

Whoever it was didn’t say anything, and the door closed behind them. There was a slight shuffling, and then a footstep and a _click._

A _click_ of a _crutch._

_Fuck._

“Fuck,” Jack whispered. “What do you want?”

“Hello to you too,” Crutchie replied stiffly. “Just wondered what you were doing out here all alone.”

“Nothing,” Jack sighed. “It was getting too stuffy in there. I needed some air.”

“Ah, so that’s what the whole _brooding-on-the-fire-escape_ thing translates to.” Crutchie rolled his eyes, coming up beside Jack. “C’mon, Jack. I know you. What were you thinking about to make you so distant all of a sudden?”

“Santa Fe,” Jack said truthfully, and Crutchie let out a huff.

“Sorry it’s so _shitty_ here that you can’t even go a week without dreaming about your home sweet home,” he snapped. “I’ll just leave you to daydream about the good ol’ wild west, shall I?”

He turned to leave, and something inside Jack thought, _Let him go._ This was closure. This was the way to get over his feelings for Crutchie once and for all. Get Crutchie so pissed at him that he’d never dream of trying to contact Jack again.

But another, louder part of his brain thought, _No, wait._ He grabbed Crutchie’s arm before he could reach the door and said, “No, Crutch, not like that.”

“I’m waiting,” Crutchie said impatiently, yanking his arm back.

“I was thinking about how much I’m going to miss this when I go back,” Jack said.

“This?”

“All of it, _,_ ” Jack said, gesturing all around him. “ _This._ New York. Manhattan. You guys. Hell, I was even getting sentimental over this stupid fucking alley.”

Crutchie’s lips twitched upwards. “To be fair, it is a stupid fucking alley full of memories.”

“I _know,_ ” Jack cried, and then he was crying all over again. “Shit, Crutchie, I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss _you-_ ” and with that, he snapped his mouth closed, because he _really_ did not need to be spilling his guts right now.

“What?”

“Nothing, Crutchie.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Jack Kelly,” Crutchie said fiercely. “What did you say?”

“I said…” _No way of getting out of it now. “_ I said I’m going to miss you.”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” Crutchie asked. “Why… why did you leave in the first place? Why did you leave us? Why did you leave _me_?”

His voice broke on _me,_ and then he was crying, too. A pair of crying boys on a fire escape at four in the goddamn morning. It was like something out of a movie, and Jack gave a watery laugh at the thought.

“What does Santa Fe have, that you were so desperate to get away?” Crutchie demanded. “What does it have that you can’t find right here in Manhattan?”

Jack had once known the answer to that question. Now, after six months of living in New Mexico, he found he had no idea. Why the hell was he continuing to live so far away? Everything he wanted was right here in New York.

“There’s nothing,” he said. “It’s not… what I thought it would be. At all. I want to come home, Crutch.”

“Then _why didn’t you?_ ” Crutchie hissed.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispered.

“I did,” Crutchie said. “For like, a week. And then I got the hell over it and decided I still loved you-”

Jack let out a strangled noise. “You _what_?”

“Shut up and let me finish,” Crutchie said, holding up a hand for silence. “I realized I was still in love with you, so I ran to your apartment in the rain, like the main character in one of those cheesy romance movies you love so much… and you were gone.”

“I’d already left,” Jack said, horrified.

“You weren’t out of the state yet,” Crutchie murmured, tracing his finger along the metal railing. “I could’ve caught you, if I went a little bit faster…”

“Crutchie,” Jack whispered. “What are you saying?”

“You know _damn_ well what I’m saying,” Crutchie snapped, but there was no heat behind his words. He just sounded hollow and _sad,_ and Jack wanted nothing more than to wrap Crutchie in his arms and never let go.

“No, I don’t,” Jack insisted. “I don’t know, Crutchie.”

Crutchie squeezed his eyes shut. “I tried to catch you, but I was too late.”

“What?” Jack was utterly lost. “You tried to catch me?”

“God _dammit,_ Jack, I ran to the airport to try and catch you!” Crutchie yelled, and Jack backed up a step on the fire escape. “I ran to the fucking airport to tell you I loved you, and to try and talk you out of going to _fucking Santa Fe,_ because everyone you love was in New York and there was nothing _fucking_ out there for you, but I was too late! I was too…”

Crutchie started crying again, and this time, Jack went against every instinct he had telling him to back off and instead held out his arms. Crutchie didn’t hesitate before stepping into them, and Jack wrapped his arms around the shaking, crying boy and held on as tight as he could as _he_ started crying, too.

“I came for you,” Crutchie whispered. “I came to try and stop you. I was too late, I’m sorry, I didn’t make it-”

“Shh,” Jack murmured, running a soothing hand back and forth on Crutchie’s back. “It’s alright, it’s okay, I’m here now.”

“But you’re _leaving!_ ” Crutchie cried, pulling apart from the hug. “You’re leaving again in who knows how many days, and then what? Another six months of silence?”

 _We can keep in touch,_ Jack almost said. _We can try that long-distance thing._

Instead, he looked into the eyes of the boy he’d once been in love with, was _definitely_ still in love with, and probably wouldn’t ever _stop_ being in love with, and said, “Tell me to stay.”

“W-what?” Crutchie clearly hadn’t been expecting that.

“Tell me,” Jack said, taking a step closer so that their chests were pressed together, “to stay.”

Crutchie seemed to be frozen where he was, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, so Jack made the first move. He brought their faces closer, _impossibly, unbearably close,_ but he didn’t close the distance. He just stayed right there, their mouths mere millimeters apart, and wondered if he was making a huge mistake, wondered if Crutchie was going to push him away.

But instead of pushing him away, Crutchie closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a sweet kiss that took Jack’s breath away.

And _God,_ Jack had missed this, more than he’d let himself admit these past several months. He’d _missed_ Crutchie, dammit, missed his presence and the feeling of his mouth and even the way he smelled. He’d missed getting to kiss Crutchie whenever he wanted. He’d missed talking to Crutchie.

He’d missed _Crutchie._

“Stay,” Crutchie gasped into Jack’s mouth. “Stay, Jack, stay here in New York with me.”

In answer, Jack opened his mouth into the kiss and brought an arm around Crutchie’s waist, pulling him still closer. One of Crutchie’s arms came up to wind itself in Jack’s hair, and one of his crutches clattered to the fire escape noisily. Crutchie paid it no mind, tugging slightly on Jack’s hair and smiling into the kiss when Jack gasped.

“I’ll stay,” Jack murmured. “I’ll stay in New York. I’m staying for Manhattan and I’m staying for our friends and I’m staying for my siblings but mostly I’m just staying for _you,_ Crutch.”

“God, I love you,” Crutchie said in a hushed tone, eyes still closed. He opened them, and brilliant green eyes ringed with smile lines, red from crying, met Jack’s own brown eyes. “I love you so much, Jack Kelly.”

“I love you too,” Jack said, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever meant anything in his life as much as he meant those words. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” and he punctuated each _I love you_ with a kiss.

“Don’t ever leave me for a fucking desert again,” Crutchie whispered angrily, and Jack laughed and captured his lips in another kiss.

“Never,” he promised. “I’m staying right here.”

“Damn right you are,” Crutchie said happily, He sounded perfectly content, perfectly set on kissing Jack for the rest of his life, and Jack?

Jack wasn’t complaining.

~

Back inside the apartment, Spot and Race were curled together in the armchair. Most of their friends had long since fallen asleep, but when Spot looked up from their entwined hands, Race’s eyes, so dark brown they were almost black, were fixed on him.

“Hey,” Spot said quietly.

“Hey,” Race replied.

“I’m sorry for ruining your birthday by getting in a fight.”

Race scoffed gently. “Are you kidding me? This has been one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Spot muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Spot.” Race’s tone was dead serious, and Spot reluctantly met his eyes again. “You know me, dude. Come on. Have I ever lied in my _life_ to make you feel better?”

“…No,” Spot admitted.

“I’m not fucking with you, Spot. This had been one of my best birthdays, to date. Thank you,” and Race leaned over to peck him lightly on the mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Spot said. ”I’m glad. I just wanted it to be special for you.”

“Well, you definitely succeeded,” Race said, and moved to disentangle himself from Spot. “I’ve got to take off my binder. Let me go, Conlon.”

As he stretched, Race absently noted, “Jack’s back.”

“Yeah… that was for Crutchie, more than anyone,” Spot said. “I’m hoping Crutchie’s going to convince him to stay. You think it’s too far-fetched?”

As Race walked past the window, he let out an unattractive snort of laughter. “I would say, based on what I’m seeing right now, not too terribly far-fetched.”

Spot scrambled out of the armchair and ran to the window, stepping on Mush on the process and muttering a hurried “Sorry” before finally making it to where Race was standing.

There was Jack, and there was Crutchie, and they definitely didn’t hate each other anymore, based on the way they were attached at the mouth.

Despite the near silence in the apartment, Spot let out a whoop, pulling Race in by the front of his shirt for a kiss before yelling, “ _Jacky’s here to stay!”_

“Shut _up,_ ” came a voice that sounded like Romeo’s from under the table. “Let me _sleep._ ”

“He could be attempting a long-distance thing with Crutchie,” Race cautioned, but Spot shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, with complete confidence in his brother. “He’s here to stay. Trust me.”

~

Two days later, Jack left for Santa Fe once more.

Except this time, Crutchie was going with him, and he wasn’t going to stay. He was going to pack up the rest of his apartment, and resign from his job, and let his landlord know he was moving back east.

“Bring him back in one piece, Jacky-boy!” Blink called after the two of them in the train station, as they prepared to board their train.

“And with his innocence intact,” Romeo added, a shit-eating grin on their face. Specs whacked them in the head, and they shrugged shamelessly.

With Crutchie gone, even if it was just for a few days, Spot was free to have Race over without worrying about bothering Crutchie, so Race literally didn’t go back to his own apartment once, which is why Albert had to track him down with his news.

“Race!” he yelled, coming into Spot’s apartment with a crash. It was two days after Jack and Crutchie had left for New Mexico. “ _Racetrack Higgins!_ ”

“I’m in here,” Race called from Spot’s bedroom. He was on his laptop, lying on Spot’s bed, and Spot was lying beside him, head resting on Race’s legs, scrolling through an article on his phone.

“Are you decent?” Albert’s voice grew closer.

“Nah, we’re fucking,” Spot yelled. Race flicked him on the side of the head, then said, “Yeah, Albo. We’re decent. What’s up?”

“I fucking _got in,_ ” Albert said breathlessly, appearing in Spot’s bedroom doorway. “The fucking touring company. They _accepted me._ ”

“Shut the fuck up,” Race breathed. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“I’m fucking _not!_ ” Albert cried, and Race slammed his laptop lid closed and was across the room in seconds, wrapping Albert in a hug so tight he could almost _feel_ his ribs breaking.

“I’m so proud of you, asshole,” Race said in Albert’s ear. “I’m so fucking proud of you. I _told_ you they’d want you.”

“I hate to break this cozy… whatever-this-is up,” Spot interrupted, “but what the fuck happened?”

“The touring company. For the tour of that Broadway show I’ve been trying to be a part of _forever,_ ” Albert explained. “My agent just called me. I _got in!_ ”

Spot could feel himself smiling. “Fucking congrats, man. Knew you had it in you.”

“Thanks,” Albert breathed, then broke the hug with Race. “Shit, I have to _pack,_ I have to _call my boss,_ I have to- shit, you’ve got the apartment to yourself now,” he told Race. “I’ll be on tour, man. You’ve got the place to yourself.”

“I’ll move in with him,” Spot said. “So that he won’t be _lone-ly._ ”

“Shut up, shithead,” Race said affectionately. “And no, you won’t. What about Crutchie?”

“You really think Crutchie will object to having a place all to himself that he can _share_ with his boyfriend?” Spot asked incredulously. “He’ll love it. I’ll start packing my shit now.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Race, shrugging. He turned back to Albert. “I’m really fucking proud of you, man. You’re gonna fucking kill it.”

“Damn right,” said Albert. “And you’ve got to come see me when we come to New York, alright?”

“You think we’d miss it?” Race asked. “ _Please._ I’ll invite everyone and their grandma. It’ll be great.”

“I’m going to pack, but I love you,” Albert said. “Thanks for being a fucking awesome roommate all these years.”

“Same to you,” Race said, saluting solemnly, and then Albert was gone.

“You know,” said Spot thoughtfully, once the front door had shut behind Albert. “There was a time in my life when I thought you’d end up with him.”

“Albert?” Race asked, then shook his head. “Nah, he’s like my gay best friend.”

“Except you’re gay too,” Spot pointed out.

Race shrugged. “Fair enough. He’s like… the guy I would marry for tax benefits and adopt three cats and maybe a kid together if we were both still single at thirty.”

“Nice to see you’ve got a backup plan in case our relationship goes south,” Spot teased, and Race stuck his tongue out at him.

“Shit, I’ve got to tell Crutchie he owns the apartment now,” Spot realized, and he whipped out his phone.

**[me] yo crutch albo’s got a touring job im moving in w race**

**[me] the apts yours dude**

**[crutch] ??? you’re kidding**

**[me] im rly not**

Spot put his phone down. “I’ll let him work the details of that out with Jack. They’ve got a _lot_ to talk about.”

Race hummed, coming back to sit on the bed. “So do we.”

“Excellent point,” Spot agreed. “I suggest we talk sleeping arrangements first.”

“You want a conversation or a demonstration?” Race asked, a sly grin spreading across his face, and it was so ridiculous Spot couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ooh, talk dirty to me, baby,” he snorted, and Race kissed his neck as he cracked up.

“In all seriousness,” Race said, “I’m going to really like sharing an apartment with you, Spot.”

“Duh,” Spot said. “We won’t have to kick Crutchie or Albert out every time we want to have sex.”

“I hate you,” Race said, but he was laughing.

Spot grinned, kissing his boyfriend on the lips before pulling back and saying, “Love you too.”

~

“It’s pretty,” Crutchie admitted. “I can see why you fell in love with it.”

“There are things back home that are prettier,” Jack said, squeezing his hand. They were sitting in the bed of Jack’s ancient pickup truck, watching the sun set over the New Mexican desert. “I fell in love with things back home, too.”

“Yeah?” Crutchie asked. “Such as?”

“Hmm, I could think of a few examples,” Jack said, leaning in to kiss Crutchie.

 “I’m glad you’re coming back,” Crutchie hummed, after a few long moments of kissing.

“Me too,” Jack murmured. “I’m glad I’m coming back, too.”

“And you’ve got to promise me you’re not going to just… _leave,_ out of the blue,” Crutchie said, holding Jack’s gaze with a serious look. “I’ll admit I overreacted when you told me before, but in my defense, you just dropped it on me. You’ve got to promise me you won’t do that again.”

“Trust me,” Jack promised. “Next time I leave, you’re coming with me.”

“I’d like that,” Crutchie whispered. “I’d like that a lot.”

And this time, it was him who leaned in for the kiss.

~

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading ily all
> 
> like i said this is also posted in Idiots In Love: go check it out it's all sprace and jackcrutchie and if you prompt me i'll write whatever other ship u want 
> 
> i'm nice like that
> 
> anyways. merry christmas, y'all. 
> 
> i copied this from IIL instead of writing my english essay
> 
> don't slack on your english essay, kiddies 
> 
> do good in school
> 
> i believe in you 
> 
> yeah


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